Outside the picture window
an arsenal drone.

(reflected in the polished roundels)

Cylinder bodied gun ships whose
insides are flaking baffles of wasp paper,
channeling searing air through their
diminishing passages.

Toyingly,
air ripples image, a blossom shape of colored gas.

All dull beating birds in spiraling angled flight.

Arcing wing, a breath of lining sight
to the brimming bottom with its lingering clot of air.

A Thrush is hopeful, darting, is a resized man.

A carrier rushing.
Come undone in the low, hanging vapors.